


Learning What it's Like to Burn

by thomastairparis



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Canon Compliant, During Canon, Edwardian Period, F/M, How Do I Tag, Kissing, Making Out, chapter 15: the whispering room, have i told yall how much i suck at tags?, james simping, jamie is a boob guy, literally the whispering room from james's pov, matthew walks in, simping, switching pov from canon pov, the whispering room, titties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomastairparis/pseuds/thomastairparis
Summary: Chain of Gold, Chapter 15: The Whispering RoomBut from James's point of view
Relationships: Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Learning What it's Like to Burn

**Author's Note:**

> this was super fun to write but not edited, though i think it's worth it even unedited?

James pushed into the room, pulling Cordelia behind him. It was a large room with bookshelves adorning the walls, a fireplace hot with silver flames, and a desk sitting in the center. A bowl was in the middle of the desk, full of what James recognized as faerie fruit. 

He glanced at the books, recognizing a few, though most were old looking spell books with spines so worn he could barely read the titles. 

He heard Cordelia’s voice, still with the hints of the seductive tone she had used in her dance, though he did not catch what she said. He had been too distracted, his mind still stuck on her dance, on the flow of her limbs. Of the beautiful blur of gold, brown, and red as every eye was on her and her sword.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” He turned to her, speaking the words aloud. It was something he needed the answer to. How would a respectable young woman know to move like that, to enchant an entire room with the way she moved?

She turned her head, her gaze meeting his. James leaned against the shelves, marvelling at how beautiful she was. At how he so desperately wanted to kiss her and tell her how lovely she was. A longing feeling both familiar and unfamiliar caused his heart to dully ache.

“I had a dance instructor in Paris,” she responded, her hands brushing the hilt of cortana absentmindedly. My mother believed that learning to dance aided learning grace in battle.  _ That  _ dance was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies, but my dance instructor did not care.”

James nodded, giving her a small grin. “Well, thank the angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled that dance off on our own.”

She smiled back, though it did not meet her eyes. She walked to the desk, running her hand over the stacks of papers, slowly nearing the bowl of fruit.

James frowned. “Be careful, I suspect it is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks -- no magical effect at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia’s hand fell to her side and she turned to him. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not,” he said, staring at Cordelia as he spoke, at his Daisy, in the light of the silver fire in the dimly lit room. She was the most lovely thing he had ever seen. Her dark eyes were curious and her crimson hair was tangled where it waved down to her collarbones, collarbones that were still dotted with beads of sweat from her dance. “But I have met those who have tasted it.

“They say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can have no more.”A part of James knew should be thinking of Grace and how he could no longer kiss her, but instead he found himself staring at the softness of Cordelia’s mouth. At how she parted her lips just slightly as she listened to him. “And yet, I have always thought, is  _ not _ knowing what is tastes like just another form of torture?” He was not sure if he was merely speaking about the fruit anymore. “The torture of wondering?”

He could not tear his gaze from Cordelia. From the way she stood there, her shoulders held back proudly and her posture perfectly upright. From her large, dark eyes and the way they seemed to be seeing right through him in a way no one else ever had. From the way her dress clung to her chest and hips, the short sleeves slipping off her bare brown shoulders. From the shape of her lovely lips -- lips that made him yearn, though he was not sure what exactly he was yearning for.

There was the sound of someone struggling with the door and James pushed himself off the shelves, turning towards the sound. Cordelia’s eyes widened and she reached for her sword. “We’re not meant to be in here-”

James made a split second decision, quickly striding towards Cordelia and drawing her close with an arm sliding around her waist. He cupped her cheek, lifting her just slightly so she was pressed against him. He kissed her hesitantly, the careful, gentle movements of his mouth contrasting with the fervor he felt. 

Cordelia gasped against his lips as the door opened. There was murmuring and shocked gasps at the doorway, though James didn’t care, not while Cordelia was wrapping her arms around his neck. She was kissing him back now, pressing against him. He felt the softness of her curves and the hard muscles from years of training arching into him, feeling better than anything he had ever dreamt of. 

He wanted more...more passion, more heat, more  _ Daisy.  _

She was the faerie fruit, his temptation, the forbidden taste he could never have again. And now James finally had his answer; the torture  _ was _ the yearning. He knew that, once this was over, no matter how much he would crave for her touch again, at least he would know what it was like to feel this, with her, right now. 

Cordelia parted her lips against his, tempting him further. James was blind to all but her lips. He dropped his hand from her cheek to her neck, leaning into it as he kissed her with more passion than he had meant to. He traced her lips and mouth with his tongue, savouring the way she tasted and felt. 

“Oh,” she sighed against his mouth. 

James remained kissing her a moment after he heard the thud of the door closing. When he finally broke the kiss, he could not bear to remove his hand from her neck or waist. All he could hear was the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

Cordelia was looking up at him with soft black eyes, her dark red hair even more tangled than it had been before. James felt the soft touch of her fingers lightly stroking his neck and he shivered, leaning into her touch. He felt  _ wild  _ and he breathed out, “ _ Daisy _ ...my Daisy…”

Cordelia’s face was flushed and her voice was a mere whisper as she lied, “I think more people are coming.”

James knew no one was coming. He knew they were alone. But Daisy was his faerie fruit and now that he has tasted her, he could not resist pulling her in against himself. She stumbled as her foot caught on the carpet and she huffed, kicking off her shoes and falling into his arms. She rose onto her tiptoes, graceful as she always had been, and kissed him. 

James explored her lips, teasing her as he kissed her. He kissed down to her jawline, blindly reaching for cortana. He kissed down the line of her throat, setting the sword against the shelves, as his other hand explored the soft and hard lines of her upper body. 

Cordelia was making the softest, most lovely noises, leaning into every one of his touches. James loved the way she felt in his arms and against his lips. He stood up straight, pulling her against him further. It wasn’t enough. He needed more, as much as she would allow him to have.

James lifted her up, half carrying her. His lips did not leave hers as he set her against the desk, her hands gripping the edge. Cordelia arched her body and he gasped at the way she felt against him like this. Heat was spreading through his body like a wildfire and it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever felt.

With the way she was responding to his kisses and touches, James could not help but run his hands up from her hips to the curve of her breasts. He cupped them, feeling her chest rise and fall in his hands as she panted against him. 

It still was not enough. If James could only kiss her and have her like this once, he would have all she was willing to give. He slid his fingers underneath the neckline of her golden dress, his hands now on the soft skin of her bare breasts. Cordelia shivered, her eyes wide. James stared at her, wondering how it was possible for anyone to be as beautiful as his Daisy. If anyone could ever make him burn as hot as she could. 

James drew back, shrugging off his coat and tossing it aside. He stepped towards her once more, admiring the lovely girl, _his_ _lovely Daisy,_ where she was leaning against the desk. He leaned into her body and she inhaled sharply. 

The heat between their bodies was unbearable, now that only a thin shirt and a thinner dress were the only obstacles between them. His body felt  _ right  _ against hers, more right than it ever had felt before, and he could barely breathe. 

Before, when he was watching her dance, he had thought she was beautiful, in a real, touchable way. And now, as he held her close and kissed her with a fierce sort of madness, she was more beautiful than ever. 

She was so close to him, their faces only a short distance apart. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen from his kisses. She was the loveliest fire and the most tempting faerie fruit; she was real; she was Daisy.

James lifted Cordelia onto the desk so she sat above him, her long red hair billowing around them like a curtain of crimson. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her lips hungrily meeting his, her hands cupping his face as they kissed. 

Cordelia pulled him closer as she laid on the desk, drawing him in so he was pressed against her. He braced himself on the desk as her hands ran over his chest. He groaned against her soft lips, his mind chanting a mantra of only her name. 

James felt her hands tangle in his hair, tugging at the roots just slightly. He was wishing for things that he had never thought to wish for, things that would ruin both of them. He yearned to kiss and touch every inch of her soft brown skin. 

He kissed down the line of her neck, to her collarbones, and finally to her chest. Her lovely breasts were quickly rising and falling; she gasped when he pressed a soft kiss to each one.

James would have done more, everything in his body and mind wished to do more with his Daisy, to kiss her harder, even more improperly, for as long as she’d allow him to do so.

But the door opened and James, who had not been paying any mind to his parabatai bond, felt a familiar tug in his soul. He froze, slowly reaching for his coat, and turned to find Matthew gawking at them. James absentmindedly handed his coat to Daisy, who was now sitting up, a bashful expression in her dark eyes. 

James kept his expression blank, knowing that if he didn’t, Matthew would be able to see right through to where his scalding desires threatened to burn him from the inside out.

Matthew looked between them, dark green eyes wide. His voice was stiff with disbelief as he rasped out, “James.”

Cordelia sounded panicked. “We’re not meant to be in here. James thought if we pretended -- I mean, if someone came in and thought --”

“I understand,” he cut her off, though not unkindly. He did not break eye contact with his parabatai. Matthew was searching James’s face, shock etched into his expression. James understood his surprise; he had never been one to take a young lady into a dark room and kiss her desperately against a desk, but he had and he’d loved every moment of it.

James changed the subject, “is Charles still here?”

Matthew leaned against the doorframe, nodding and speaking with his hands, as he tended to do when he was uncomfortable. “He left. He gave me quite the dressing down, I can assure you, for spending my time in such a swamp of debauchery and ruin.” Matthew sighed. “He said that he thought I would have at least brought you or Anna to look after me.” He grimaced, his green eyes hard. 

“Hard luck, old chap.” James suppressed the urge to ruffle his golden curls. Instead, he turned to hold out a hand to Daisy.

She took his hand, hers smaller and more slender than his, and he helped her off the desk. She was searching his face, a small frown tugging at her lips. She handed his coat back and he pulled it on, though he hadn’t minded the idea of her wearing it. James looked back to his parabatai. “Why was he here?”

“The Enclave is looking into what Downworlders know about the situation. Days after we already had the idea, of course.”

“We ought to leave.” James crossed her arms over his chest. “Charles may have gone, but nothing prevents other Clave members from making an unwanted appearance.”

“We have to warn Anna.” Cordelia’s voice had shook slightly.

“Hypatia won’t like that.” Matthew smiled, though it did not meet his eyes. 

“Still.” Cordelia stubbornly raised her chin. She was always lovely, but she looked especially lovely now, with her red hair tangling around her fierce expression. After what they’d just done, James was not sure if he’d ever look at her the same way again. “We must.”

So they left the room, going in search of Anna. 

James had traded one sort of torture for another. Now he knew what it was like to kiss his Daisy, to breathe her in and devour her lips. And from now on he’d crave the taste of her, and though he knew he’d never taste it again, it was worth it. As long as he could remember what it is like to hold her, it always would be worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone actually read this, let me know what you thought of it!!
> 
> btw my twitter is @1902PARIS if anyone wants to follow me perhaps??


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